The Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame - Book 1 (29 page)

Tresslar was ranting through his third variation of this screed when Diran finally interrupted.

“It’s obvious that you’re an exceptionally busy man, Master Tresslar, so let me tell you the purpose for our visit. My colleague and I are doing research on the life of the explorer Erdis Cai.”

Tresslar didn’t move, and for the first time since they’d met the man, he didn’t say anything. The old man’s shoulders sagged in what seemed like defeat, but when he turned to face them he was perfectly composed.

“I don’t see how I can help you. I’m an artificer, not a folklorist. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really should get back to Jurus. While I enjoy making him sit on his pallet and wait for me, it’s unwise to push him too far.”

Tresslar started to walk past them.

“You
are
the artificer who sailed with Erdis Cai, aren’t you?” Diran said. “We have only one question to ask you: where is Erdis Cai’s home port?”

Tresslar stopped. His eyes went wide and he shook his head.

Diran stepped forward and gripped the man’s shoulders. “You must tell us! People’s lives are at stake, perhaps even their very souls!”

“Guards!” Tresslar shouted.

There was no need for the artificer to shout twice. A half dozen dwarves in Stonemeld armor came running toward them from all directions. Diran glared at Tresslar, but he released his hold of the man.

The artificer brushed the front of his tunic as if contact with Diran had somehow soiled it.

“What’s wrong, Tresslar?” one of the guards asked.

“These two gentlemen were granted permission by the warden to speak with me.” Tresslar fixed Diran and Ghaji with a steely gaze, but the half-orc detected more than a little fear in his eyes as well. “We’re finished.”

Ghaji was about to protest when Diran said, “We wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.” He inclined his head to Tresslar. “You have our thanks for your time, Master Artificer. You’ve been most helpful.”

Diran smiled at Ghaji, narrowing his eyes slightly to indicate he wanted Ghaji to speak. Ghaji turned to Tresslar, drew his lips back from his teeth, and without opening his mouth, growled. “Most helpful, indeed.”

Tresslar’s face turned whiter than his beard at the site of Ghaji’s orcish teeth.

“Y-you’re welcome.”

Seaspray coated his greenish skin, and when the night wind blew cold across the island’s rocky shore, Ghaji felt as if he were covered with a thin layer of ice.

So this is the Principalities in summer, he thought. I really hope we’re not still here come winter.

Of course, if the four of them were caught sneaking onto Dreadhold without authorization, they might get the opportunity to experience many, many winters here.

After leaving earlier that afternoon, Yvka had circled the
Zephyr
back to the island, and by the time they’d dropped anchor offshore, full night had fallen. They’d been careful not to use the elemental close to the island, lest the night guards spot the glowing containment ring.

They kept low as they made their way across the barren black rock toward the stone building that served as the staff quarters. Diran and Ghaji were in the lead, with Yvka and Hinto following close behind. Ghaji had been reluctant to bring the halfling along, given his emotional instability, but Hinto refused to be left alone on the
Zephyr
—and more to the point, on the water in the dark. Their plan was as simple as it was foolhardy. Diran and Ghaji had scouted the basic layout of the island’s facilities earlier, and Yvka knew enough about Dreadhold to confirm the location of the staff’s quarters. Presumably, Tresslar lived here as, unfortunately, did the guards when off duty. The four companions intended to enter the staff building, find Tresslar’s room, and urge him—forcibly, if need be—to tell them the location of Erdis Cai’s home port. Diran had seemed to enjoy planning their nocturnal visit to Dreadhold.
It reminds me of old times
, he’d said. Ghaji hated it when Diran said things like that, but the priest’s experience and
training as an assassin came in handy far too often for Ghaji to complain.

Ghaji felt almost sorry for the artificer. Diran had been growing increasingly impatient in the hours before their return to Dreadhold. He was so close to finding out where the Black Fleet had taken Makala, and Ghaji knew that his friend wasn’t going to be able to stand any more delays. One way or another, Tresslar was going to give them the information they needed.

The island’s black surface seemed to absorb moonlight rather than reflect it, and the ground was uneven enough that four more irregular shadowy shapes in the darkness should go unnoticed. There was a paved pathway from the main cellhouse to the staff quarters, but they approached the building from the side, though even this carried risk. Unlike the cellhouse, the building containing the staff quarters had windows. Luckily, only a few lights burned behind closed shutters even though it wasn’t all that late. Ghaji wasn’t surprised. Dreadhold didn’t exactly seem like the sort of place to support a thriving night life.

When they were within a dozen yards of the building, Diran approached while the others hung back. The priest moved silently and swiftly, comfortable in the shadows. He moved from window to window on the first floor, checking to see if any of the shutters were unlocked. After making a complete circuit of the building, he looked over to where the others waited crouched low to the ground and signaled for them to join him. They made little sound as they walked over to Diran, and what noise they did make was covered by the sound of the surf breaking on Dreadhold’s shore.

Ghaji gave Diran a questioning look, but the priest shook his
head, indicating that he’d found no unlocked windows. They’d anticipated that. This was, after all, Dreadhold, and though an inmate escape was unlikely, keeping the windows barred at night was a sensible precaution, but what about the windows on the second floor? That’s where Yvka came in. She stepped up to the wall, removed her boots, then placed her fingertips in the almost invisible seams between the stone blocks. She then began climbing. The elf-woman moved with almost preternatural grace, fingers and toes finding purchase where there should be none.

Yvka headed for a darkened window first because that had the greater likelihood of being an empty room. When she reached the sill, she tried the shutters, but they must’ve been locked because she abandoned it and moved on to another. She tried two more darkened windows, avoiding a third that had a light burning inside, before she found one with the shutters unlocked and open. She cautiously peered inside, a risky move since there were no clouds to cut off the moonlight shining behind her. After several seconds, she hauled herself over the sill and climbed into the room. The companions on the ground tensed, waiting to hear the room’s startled occupant shout an alarm, but they heard nothing. A moment later, Yvka appeared at the window. She smiled, nodded, and held out her hand.

Ghaji tucked Yvka’s boots beneath his belt. He then removed the coil of rope that he carried around his shoulder and took the grappling hook from his pack. He quickly tied the rope onto the hook then stepped beneath Yvka and tossed it up to her. The elf-woman caught it on the first try then disappeared back into the room. Several moments later, she returned and motioned that they could begin climbing. Trusting that she had found a
sturdy place to anchor the grappling hook, Diran began scaling the wall, moving with a speed and grace that, while perhaps not elven, still surpassed that of any other human Ghaji knew. Once Diran was inside the room, it was Hinto’s turn. Ghaji was supposed to keep watch while the others climbed, but he couldn’t help sneaking a glance at the halfling to make sure he didn’t begin panicking halfway up. Hinto made it without difficulty, and it was Ghaji’s turn. The half-orc was more than strong enough to manage the task, and once he was inside the room, he hauled in the rope so there would be no sign of their entrance to alert any patrolling guards.

The room had a low ceiling, which made sense since most of Dreadhold’s staff were dwarves, and Ghaji had to keep his head lowered if he didn’t want to bash it on the stone ceiling. Though it was dark in the room, there was enough moonlight filtering through the open window to reveal that these quarters weren’t all that much larger than the prison cells. A single dwarf-sized bed with a trunk sitting at its foot comprised the room’s entire contents. The bed, which Yvka had fastened the grappling hook to, was empty and recently made, the room’s occupant presumably on night duty.

Ghaji returned Yvka’s boots to her, and as the elf-woman slipped them on, he leaned close to Diran and whispered in his ear. “Now what? We can’t just go through the building, knocking on doors and asking if anyone knows where Tresslar’s room is.”

“We need to find someone to question,” Diran said.

There was a sudden soft click followed by the creak of metal. Ghaji drew his axe and Diran’s hands sprouted a pair of daggers.

“Hinto’s just picked the lock on the trunk and is having a looksee at the contents,” Yvka said.

“Hinto,” Diran said, “we’re here to find and question Tresslar, not to rifle through someone else’s possessions.”

“Who says we can’t do both?” The halfling sailor—and occasional pirate—swiftly rooted through the open chest, but he evidently found nothing of interest, for he soon closed the trunk lid.

“Put the money back, Hinto,” Diran said.

“What money? All that was in there were folded tunics and a pouch of smelly pipe tobacco.”

“And a coin purse,” Diran said, “which you palmed and stuck into the top of your left boot. I can fish it out with one of my daggers, if you like.”

Hinto sighed. He took the pouch from his boot and was about to put it back in the trunk when Yvka said, “Wait a moment.”

“You mean I can keep it?” Hinto asked, sounding like a delighted child.

“No.” Yvka reached out and took the pouch from him. “I think I just came up with a way to find Tresslar’s room.”

Yvka had been gone a while now, and Diran was becoming concerned. Her idea had merit, which was why he’d agreed to let her try it, but just because an idea was good didn’t mean it was flawless. Perhaps she’d been captured or delayed by some unforeseen circumstance. What if the room’s occupant came back while they waited? Diran didn’t know how often the staff
of Dreadhold changed shifts, but each moment they remained here increased their chances of being discovered.

He could hear a voice whispering in his mind.
Patience, my boy, patience
, but Diran couldn’t tell if it was Emon’s voice or Tusya’s. Perhaps this time it was a blend of both.

Ghaji sat cross-legged on the floor, axe resting on his lap, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Hinto had crawled into the bed, which was just the right size for him, stretched out, and from the sound of his deep heavy breathing, had dozed off. Diran tried to relax, but he couldn’t. He paced back and forth, hands empty but itching to reach into his cloak and draw forth a dagger or three, so he might juggle them to help pass the time. It would probably annoy Ghaji, and if Hinto awoke it could possibly frighten the halfling into letting out a screech and giving them all away, so he just kept pacing and tried not to think about how good a blade would feel in his hand right now.

Diran knew that he was letting his emotions get the better of him, but he couldn’t help it. It had been two days since the Black Fleet raiders had abducted Makala and the others from Port Verge, and there was every possibility she was already dead. Even if they did locate Tresslar’s room and convince him to tell them where Erdis Cai laired, it might be too late to save Makala. Whether Makala was alive or dead, Diran intended to make damn sure that Erdis Cai and the Black Fleet never preyed on innocents ever again.

There came a soft knocking at the door. Three short raps, three long. It was Yvka. Diran opened the door, and the elf-woman came in. She was wearing a gray tunic they’d found in the trunk and holding the money pouch in one hand.

Diran quickly shut the door behind her, turned, and said, “Well?”

“Mission accomplished. Tresslar’s room is on the first floor in the southwest corner.”